Page 81

I have already made one mistake by assuming the danger would come from outside.

I won’t make another.

By the time I finish my meetings that evening, I am tired and in a poor mood. Sergei is in the city following a lead connected to the prepaid phone used before the school attack. Viktor has taken Anya to the cinema room, and Irina has finally left after spending most of the afternoon complaining about the restrictions on visitors.

I leave my study intending to get something to eat, and almost walk straight into Elara.

She stops a few feet away. “Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t realize you were coming out.”

“You don’t need to apologize.”

She’s wearing a loose blue sweater and dark trousers, with her hair down around her shoulders. The bruising on her face has almost disappeared, although I can still see a faint mark near her temple.

I ask how her hip is, and she tells me it is improving. I ask about her headaches, and she says they are mostly gone.

Then I run out of questions that have nothing to do with what I actually want to know.

“Good,” I say.

She looks at me for a moment. “Right.”

I should continue toward the stairs, but she hasn’t moved, and there’s something in her expression that makes me wait.

“Are you mad at me for something?” she asks.

“No.”

“You seem like you are.”

“I’m not angry with you.”

“Then why are you avoiding me?”

I glance toward the end of the corridor. “Elara, I have had a great deal of work to deal with.”

“I know you have.” She folds her arms, then seems to think better of it and lets them fall. “I’m not asking you to spend all day entertaining me. It’s just that you barely look at me anymore, and when you do, you ask whether I have a headache.”

I cannot help smiling a little.

She notices and looks embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to come onto you,” she says.

That gets my attention. “Really?”

Her face turns red. “I mean, I didn’t plan it. Obviously. I wasn’t sitting there after nearly drowning thinking this would be a good opportunity to kiss my employer.”

“I understand.”

“Do you? Because not talking about it has made it worse.”

She looks down at her hands, then back at me. “I know it was inappropriate. You were helping me, and I was cold and scared, and then I kissed you. I’m aware that’s not exactly professional behavior.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Then why have you been acting like I do?”

I take a moment before answering. “Because I should have handled it better. You were recovering from a frightening experience, and I should have stopped before things went as far as they did.”

Her expression changes. “Oh.”